


Sacrifices 6

by evieplease



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Cardiac, F/M, Physical Abuse, Rec Carpet, Scotland, Shower Sex, Verbal Abuse, abusive boss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 05:22:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5696578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieplease/pseuds/evieplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mayhem on the red carpet leads to an encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifices 6

Tom guided us out of the building to the car park, my hand clasped firmly in his. Finding the rental took some doing as it looked like every other vehicle in the carpark, but we got there in the end.

He unlocked the car and opened my door, holding my hand as I sat and dropping a swift kiss on my cheek before closing the door.

Tom was quiet in the car, navigating streets he was only somewhat familiar with, as I watched the city go by. He drove us toward the hotel, each of us thinking our own thoughts. I watched out my window at the passing stone and green city.

I'm surprised at how similar the two men are. Charming, cheerful and charismatic, the both of them. I wonder what their relationship had been like when Tom was a teen. I have trouble imagining Tom as your typical sullen teen. I cast another glance at the pensive man beside me. 

We'd had a fascinating- well, fascinating for me, anyway - conversation on the 'plane about his and Felicia's instant mutual dislike, sort of as background material for me, since he was, as he said, depending on me to keep his hands off Felicia's throat. 

I have such a difficult time imagining Tom at any age being actively disliked by anyone. And an equally hard time imagining Tom disliking someone, as he obviously dislikes Felicia. Of course Tom's version of dislike is extremely polite. Not to mention stiff. If I hadn't seen their interaction with my own eyes, I never would have believed it.

It sounded like their relationship had solidified when Tom was a teen and Felicia was a new bride and new step-mother. I wonder how young she had been at the time.

I wish I'd had my camera this morning when the two had met. So coldly distant and polite. The social niceties coolly observed. Well, not her so much. She hadn't been quite so polite, reminding him that he wasn't wanted, right off the bat. Definitely poking him with a sharp stick to get a reaction. I wonder if she'd got the reaction she was looking for? Tom had simply got colder and stiffer. But I'd seen the wave of red colour creeping up the back of his neck.

And then she'd been deliberately rude to me, refusing to acknowledge his introduction of me. When I'd laughed at her for it, did I see a flash of hurt in her eyes before she drew herself up? Maybe even a bit of shame?

I speculated what Felicia might be like alone with James. I simply can't fathom James, sunny James, being married to the cold stuck-up bitch I'd met this afternoon. James had seemed sincerely saddened by the distance between his wife and his son, and aware that his wife was at least equally culpable. But he clearly had decided early on not to interfere- rather like a parent letting squabbling siblings sort themselves out, I thought. I'd be willing to bet that's exactly what James had done at their rocky start.

I wonder if I'm seeing a relationship triangle that has been essentially frozen in time. I really am getting curious to see them all together, but especially James and Felicia. I must admit, I'm feeling a bit protective, myself. Although it's James I want to protect. But he seems to truly love her. Why else would he stay married to the woman? I mean, given that he'd ended his unhappy marriage to Tom's mother, I assume that he would be willing to end another. That James loves her gives me pause. Have I misjudged her?

I'm beginning to wonder what it would be like to be an insecure, shy, or socially awkward person and be married to, in love with someone as outgoing as James. Certainly I'd rarely ever felt so instantly at home with someone I'd just met! I'd think it could be very difficult sometimes, to be married to someone who attracts people like bees to honey. Always on the outside looking in? Hmm. Might she have been jealous of the son he so obviously dotes on? And might a teenaged boy feel resentful, jealous of his beloved fathers' new bride? Huh.

"Tom?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I...that is, may I...bring my camera the next time we go see your Dad? I'd very much like to capture the two of you on film." I hurried to reassure him. "I'd only use film, and I'll give you both the negatives and any prints...?" 

Tom laughed loud. "You do realize, darling, that you've just asked an actor if he'll let you photograph him?"

I snickered, then laughed aloud, Tom having a very good point. Tom and I had a giggling fit over it. Well, I did. I'm pretty sure he wasn't laughing at the joke, so much as he was laughing at my giggles... Which just set me off again. I watched some of the tension drain from him as he laughed. It was good to hear him laugh.

"You know, you're quite good at that," I said quietly.

"Hmm? Good at what, darling?" He raised an eyebrow as he put on the blinker to make a turn.

"I hadn't realized you were acting, until you stopped. I'm sure your dad never had any idea that you weren't Mr. Sunshine."

Tom's chin dropped. "Yeah." he said wearily.

"You're really worried about your dad? He seems pretty chipper..."

"Yes, but how much of that was for my benefit? Dad and I... I love my Dad," he swallowed, "he's brilliant. But Felicia..." he sighed.

"You know," I turned sideways to face him, "I can just about see you as a brash boy, telling your old man that his new bride was a horrible cold bitch." I said with a teasing grin.

Tom laughed rather mirthlessly. "I'm still surprised that he didn't knock me on my cocky young arse... I certainly deserved it."

"Mmm," I pondered. "That act of restraint seems more like an act of love to me, Tom..."

He smiled sideways at me. "Oh, yeah. I've always known that my Dad loves me, loves all us children. He's marvelous, my Dad. I'd go a long way for my Dad..."

I started to snicker. I waved my hand out the window at Edinburgh rolling past.

"Q.E.D.!"

Tom joined my laughter, seeming to relax into my joke.

We checked in at the hotel, Tom insisting on carrying my camera bag, and turning all the rest of the luggage over to the concierge. We left the bellhop loading luggage onto a cart.

Tom escorted me across the lobby to the lifts with a hand in the small of my back. He slipped an arm around me and smiled gently down at me once he'd pushed the button for our floor, hugging me to his side.

"Would you like a shower or something before we head out for dinner, darling?"

I blinked and grinned. Why not? I gave him a very obvious once-over, smiling my appreciation for his, ahem, 'attributes', before looking back up at his face.

"Don't mind if I do, Grandad..." I said suggestively. Tom growled and grinned back, a lascivious twinkle in his eyes, one eyebrow at a dangerous tilt.

"Mind some company?"

I cocked my head and touched a fingertip to my lips. "That depends, Grandad...are you the company?"

Tom definitely growled at that. "I'd better be, little girl."

I slipped my arms around his waist and hugged him. "Yes, I think you'd better be, too." This man...

Tom squeezed me back and kissed the top of my head. The lift stopped and Tom strolled us, arms around each other's waists to our door, swiping his keycard and opening the door.

Tom walked into that strange hotel suite as if he'd been there a million times, casually setting my camera bag on the table and moving to the mini bar.

"Pre-shower drink, darling? The luggage will be here momentarily, then we can get started on that shower."

It struck me how smoothly and competently he moved about the room, a man very much used to strange hotel rooms. It seems like a necessary skill to pick up. If my career goes as hoped, I'll be seeing the inside of a great many hotels as well, traveling with my camera.

"Mmm. That sounds lovely. Scotch? with ice?"

"Yes, of course, love. Why don't you take a quick reconnoiter?" gesturing with his chin toward a set of open double doors. 

I wandered through the doors. Nice. King sized bed, lovely soft white linens. I walked through another doorway and stopped, stunned. Dear god, it's a fucking sybaritic wet-dream of a bathroom. Teal blue tiled floor, white fixtures. The most enormous tub, with jets. And a teal blue rainfall shower, with multiple heads. Oh fuck me, a bidet! Lovely white fluffy towels and bathrobes on a shelf. Heat lamps. Ohhh, heat lamps! I think I may have moaned out loud.

Tom chuckled, stepping into the room and handing me a scotch, ice tinkling against the side of the glass. I took a sip, enjoying the cold burn.

I nodded at the tub. "I'm afraid that if I once got into that tub, I would never leave... The hotel would have to give future guests a discount to ignore the prune-y naked girl in the bathtub!" I wrinkled my nose.

Tom nearly choked. "Darling, what a lovely visual you've given me! Far from giving a discount, I'm certain the hotel would have to charge extra..." He set his glass down on the vanity. "The visual's not all you've given me..."

I laughed and checked him out, running my eyes up him, noting the bulge starting in the front of Tom's trousers. Tom's eyes turned stormy. I held him off for a moment, my hand in his chest. It won't hurt him to wait another minute...much. Though it might kill me...

"Would you turn the shower on? I'm going to get my toiletries." I turned and walked out, not waiting for a reply. I found my carry on and rummaged for a moment, finding my toothbrush and cosmetics bag, shower soap and shampoo. Returning to the bathroom I found that Tom had the shower warming, and had already stripped off. Jesus, his backside...

He smiled at me in the mirror over his shoulder, his mouth foamy with toothpaste. He bent and spit, rinsed and tapped his brush, setting it on the vanity. Lovely view... He turned.

"You might regret that toothpaste." I said with a grin, taking a drink of my scotch. He came to stand so close, hovering over me. He lifted my chin on his crooked finger.

"I don't think I need any alcohol for this next bit... Melissa, darling, may I undress you?" He murmured.

God. How does he freaking know exactly the thing to say, the thing to do to make my knees go weak? Crap. Those eyes are looking straight down into the very depths of me. This man...

Tom is waiting for my answer, but he isn't idle, oh no. He's watching his hand playing with my hair, touching it, tucking a strand behind my ear, wrapping a coil around his forefinger.

Conventional wisdom says that when a woman plays with her hair, she's interested. But when a man plays with her hair? She's done for...

I've already fallen. Eventually I'm going to hit bottom, and the splatter will be spectacular, but there is absolutely nothing I can do about that. James was right, I've got it bad. Given all that, why shouldn't I make some wonderful memories to cry over? You can laugh, or you can cry, right? So I might as well laugh...for now.

I drew a finger down his cheek, along his smile crease. "You make me laugh..." I tell him quietly, looking back up into his eyes, watching his pupils expand, and the blue of his eyes seems to intensify.

"Yes, Tom. I think I would like it very much if you would undress me..."

Tom's hand came to my jaw, and his long fingers slid over the skin of my neck into the back of my hair. His eyes flutter closed and he brushes his lips over mine, his mouth soft and slightly open, breathing in and tasting me. My own hands come to rest on his warm chest, thumbs over his heart.

After several long minutes Tom lifts his head, and his eyes open. He gazes at me, licking his lips and his eyes flicking to each feature of my face. He leans his forehead gently against mine, and pulls in a soft breath.

"Melissa." he breathes, "You...are just right..."

I stood very still for a moment, and then lifting a hand, brush his curls back from his forehead.

"Tom?" I inquire gently. "Did you just infer that I'm a bowl of porridge?"

A bright blush climbed up his face. “Goldilocks, eh?” He splutters a bit, and then snorts with laughter.

"Darling, is there no romance in your soul? And for your information, Goldilocks, I adore porridge...and I have every intention of eating you up." He whispers in his 'Loki' voice, purring silk.

Tom takes my hand in his long fingers, stroking my palm, and lifts our hands overhead, guiding me in a dancing half-turn. Dropping our hands and settling a hand on my hip, he brushes my hair over one shoulder and softly kisses the nape of my neck. I reach up and back, running my hands into his hair and tugging lightly. 

Pressing my body back against his, he cranes his head over my shoulder, watching his hands undo the buttons of my blouse. He kisses from my ear, down the side of my neck, and across the top of my shoulder, nudging the silk aside with his nose to get at my skin. With my blouse open and framing my sheer pink covered breasts, he watches over my shoulder as his hands trace over the top edges of my bra cups, touching the mark he’d left on me this morning, whispering into the tender skin of my shoulder. I can only catch random words, "sweet" and "luscious".

He slips the clasp between my breasts open, and pulls the cups aside, watching as my breasts spill out into his hands. A finger traces around a nipple. A murmur of a whisper reaches my ears.

"These are beautiful, darling Melissa... Thank you for letting me touch them..."

At any other time a quip would have occurred to me, but the soft sincerity in his voice stops the words, even the my breath in my throat. How does he do that? Make me feel more beautiful than any woman who ever lived in that moment? Make me see the beauty in my own breasts? 

I push my head back against his chest, arching and moaning at his teasing touch over the tops of my breasts. I can feel the skin over them tighten, making them heavy with need, my nipples actually beginning to ache.

My eyes open and I'm looking into the vanity mirror, watching Tom trace over my skin with that feathering fingertip touch. My god. The two of us look...

"Tom?" I turn my head and whisper into his neck.

"Mmm?" He murmurs, but he doesn't stop what he's doing, thank christ.

"Look." I nod at the mirror and he glances up.

"Oh, lovely Melissa..." he smiles against my neck, gives it a long lick and returns his attention to the delicious things he's doing to my breasts.

Wow. I thought pretty much all men were into watching themselves. Some of them even like to watch more than they like to do... In my experience.

I continue watching us in the mirror. I might have to admit, it's pretty hot.

Tom moves to grip both breasts. The tight pressure I'm already feeling in my breasts goes up another few notches, and my eyes squeeze shut, all the breath rushes from my lungs.

"Tom...please..." My brain has left the building with all the words.

"Mmm..." He hums against my shoulder, and I can feel the rumble of it in his chest against my back.

Tom's massaging grip on my breasts loosens and he begins to draw featherlight patterns across the tops, then he flips his hands over and drags his knuckles around the undersides.

His hands feather lightly over the outside curves of my breasts, over my ribs, and to my waistband. Sliding his hands around to the button on my slacks, he releases it and so slowly slides the zipper down. His fingers tickle at the skin over my hips, and then slip under the fabric, sliding slowly down the front of my thighs, pushing my trousers along over my hips. He moves his hands around my thighs to my arse, sliding over my cheeks to grasp them in a tight grip, kneading.

Tom kneels behind me, drawing my trousers down, holding my hand to steady me as I step out. He leans in to kiss the dimples above my bum, then gives each cheek a soft bite. His hands slide up my legs, and pull my knickers off, grasping my hips and turning me, looking up at me from my feet. His expression...

Tom nuzzles his nose against my belly and strokes up, drawing a slow sensuous path between my navel and pubis. His tongue comes out and delivers random little licks and nibbles, and kisses.

"Oh, Melissa," he murmurs into my skin, "I can smell you, you know... You smell of desire, and sweet comfort..." Even quieter, barely a thread of sound, I think I hear him say "you smell like home..." Then he is kissing my mound, a tantalising brush of his lips.

My hands find his hair and stroke over his head, his curls soft now, with barely any trace of the product he'd finger combed into it this morning. I run my fingers softly through his hair, over and over as he kisses me, his tongue sliding and swirling in my folds. So good...

Tom stands and murmurs in my ear. "Wash your hair? Or just a quick rinse off?" How does he make a mundane question into a seduction?

It takes me a moment to put enough scattered brain cells together to formulate a response.

"Rinse now, shampoo later?”

Tom reaches around me and picks up the hair tie on the vanity. He gathers the mass of my hair gently up to the top of my head and secures it with the tie. I watch in the mirror as he pulls the tail of hair half way through, leaving a messy bun, his fingers tucking and tweaking escaping strands. His hands settle on my shoulders and he looks into my face in the mirror.

"You really should wear your hair up more, darling." The back of his hand slides from my jaw , slowly down my neck to my collarbone and back. "You have the most elegant neck..."

He bends and lays a soft kiss behind my ear. He takes my hand and turns, leading me into the shower enclosure.

Without releasing my hand Tom reaches up and adjusts the shower head, angling it low, so that my hair will stay dry, and then moves my body under the stream of hot water. He picks up my shower gel and pours a handful into the palm of his hand, turning me so the water cascades over my back, and begins to smooth the slick soap over my shoulders and arms, over my neck, chest and breasts in long slow strokes down my ribs and hips, over the tops of my thighs, and back up along the inside of my legs, each hand sliding slowly, slickly over my sex and back up the centre of my body. A low moan falls from my mouth. He's remembered that I love to be petted. He strokes over my body several times in this fashion, and turns me to rinse my front, while giving my back the same treatment. It all makes me want to melt and purr.

Tom turns me again, rinsing my back, and then steps forward, maneuvering me, nudging me back until I come up against the cool tile wall, crowding me with his body.

He pours more gel in his hands and runs the soap over his own body and legs, then leans in to kiss me, rubbing himself against my body, the contact slick and silky, sliding across me in a slow, sensuous, sinuous, full body caress.

My hands move to his biceps, gliding up his arms and shoulders, my fingers searching out and tracing the long muscles, and the rounded ones at shoulder and bicep, gliding over the definition of hills and valleys of his musculature.

I move up to his hair, my fingers tangling there as he leans once more for a kiss, his tongue delving between my lips, skating the edge of my teeth, finding my tongue and sucking on it. Meanwhile his knee insinuates itself between my legs. I can feel his cock sliding, slippery with soap, up and down my belly with the slow thrust of his hips.

Tom's hands find my hips and he cocks his knee between my legs, bringing his thigh in a slow pressing contact with my pussy. I can't help but grind myself down on that knee.

Tom pushes his knee forward between my legs until it is braced on the wall behind me and his hands flex on my hips. He rocks me a bit on his knee, then releases one hip, his hand sliding across soapy skin to my pussy, his fingers sliding easily into my folds, opening them, opening me.

The pad of his middle finger very lightly brushes the tip of my clit, making me gasp and shudder. Again and again he brushes the lightest touch over my clit. My eyes are squeezed shut, my hands clutching his shoulders...

"Oh yes, that's a girl...come out and play..." He says softly.

I open my eyes to find him watching his hand holding me open, his finger sweeping across my clit. I know that my clit has swollen now, has pushed itself out of its hood. Fuck. He's talking to my clit?

His upper body is leaning back as he watches me. Keeping my folds open, he settles me, my open sex onto his soap slick thigh, resting me there for a moment as he kisses me, letting me adjust to the feel of his hard muscled thigh against my most sensitive bits. I rock my pelvis just a little, feeling split open - as I am! - and Tom takes this as his cue.

Both his hands are on my hips. He leans down and gives my breast a soft biting suck, and then leans back again. His hands tug my hips forward and he's -fuck!- dragging my open sex against the slick upward slope of his thigh, his skin gliding under me like silk against my inner folds, against my clit.

His hands push my hips back and I slide back down the slope of his leg. Just a few centimeters travel each way, but my god, the sensation of firm pressure against tender bits is pushing me higher.

And then he pulls me up the entire slope of his thigh, lifting my feet off the floor, my weight resting helplessly on my open pussy. The sensation causes me to throw my head back, Tom's hand barely catching between my head and the tile wall.

"Are you alright, darling?" Tom murmurs. I nod, words escaping me. Tom slides my body down his thigh, and back up again.

"Open your eyes for me, Melissa, look at me..." My eyes flutter open drunkenly to find him staring directly into them. "So beautiful this way, Melissa..."

Slickly up his thigh and back down, up and down, as I cling to his shoulders and he watches me, his attention so focused on me, drinking in my responses. I moan and see something light in his eyes, even as his pupils widen. He draws his lower lip between his teeth and increases the pace of his push and pull.

"Oh, god," I moan, "oh yes, Tom...yes...more..." My eyes close at the increased intensity.

"Look at me." He reminds me, and I open my eyes again. "I want to watch you as you come on my leg. Come apart for me. You're so beautiful...that's it..."

His pace increases again, and he's moving his thigh with it, short fast strokes of his slippery thigh against my clit. My moans are continuous, and I'm panting. Close, so close...

"Yes, do it, Melissa...let go...come on me, yes, yes, come now, come girl, come now for me..." His litany of encouragement, his beautiful blue eyes boring into me, his strong white teeth closed over his lip in concentration, the pure blinding sensation between my legs put me over the top, thrusting me into a dizzying height. I come with a cry, my body vibrating, my sex clenching and clutching at him as I free fall. 

I hear Tom cry out as well, only then realising that he is coming with me, his come spurting hotly against my belly, smeared between our bodies, as Tom leans his head against my shoulder, holding my hips pulled tight against him as he pulses and shudders.

Tom keeps moving my hips in short tugs, keeping me riding my orgasm as it slows, his eyes avidly drinking me.

When at last I go limp against him, falling forward onto his chest, his hands leave my hips, smoothing up my back and wrapping around me, tenderly holding my body against his as he slowly lets his leg relax, letting me back down onto my feet.

"Oh god, Tom, that was..." I break off. I don't even have words. One hand moves up and tangles in my hair, tugging my head back, his eyes searching mine briefly, and then he kisses me deeply. When he pulls back he smiles down into my face.

"That was beautiful, Melissa," he says quietly. "I could watch you do that all day..."

"You'll kill me..." I mutter back. He squeezes me and laughs, stepping back and loosening his grip. He turns and pulls us back into the hot water, letting the stream flow between our bodies, rinsing off soap and cum.

Tom reaches down and gently cups my sex, and so softly and carefully opens my folds, mindful of the extra sensitivity after my orgasm. The water running down my body pools in the palm of his hand as he holds me open, letting the water rinse away any traces of soap from my delicate bits.

I look up. The expression on his face is...intent, careful. He flexes his palm and allows the remaining water to drain away, re-cupping and letting his palm fill with fresh, finally releasing my folds, his hand dropping away.

"There, now. All tidy..." he kisses my hair and runs a hand down my body before stepping back under the water and vigorously rinsing his own body free of the soap. I stand watching him, waiting. He reaches around me to turn the water off, swings me up into his arms, making me laugh. He carries me out of the enclosure, setting me on the bath mat and reaches for a towel.

"Tom...?"

"Mmm?" he glances up from toweling my shoulders and arms dry.

"Are you...enjoying yourself?"

His big smile breaks out. "I am, actually."

He drops down on one knee and reaches the towel to run over my chest and breasts, carefully lifting and drying under them, running the towel down my ribs and belly in a circular motion, as he leans forward and gives one nipple a lick and a kiss, grinning up at me. He looks so pleased with himself I can't help but laugh.

He dries the rest of me, running the towel tenderly down each leg to my feet, drying them carefully, and running the towel back up the insides of my legs. He pauses and looks up. I purse my lips and raise an eyebrow. What are ya gonna do now?

Tom sits back on his heels and regards me, his head on one side. When he speaks, his voice is husky. "Open your legs for me, Melissa." he commands. Ooof. The breath rushes out of me as I obey him. I'm so not into power games, but that was...kinda hot.

Tom slides the towel up my thigh and dries my pubic hair, then turns me to dry my back and bum, giving me a little bite and kiss in one cheek that makes me yelp and jump in startlement.

"There," he says with satisfaction, "you'll do." He stands to dry himself energetically, tossing the damp towel onto the shower floor. With a grin and a slap on my arse, giving me a push toward the bedroom, he says "Now go get dressed! I have a dinner date with a beautiful woman, and I don't want to be late!"

"I have news for you, Grandad, if your dinner date isn't me you will most definitely be 'late'! I was promised a meal!"

 


End file.
